In the end I think there were about 20 of us including family and friends who had travelled up from over the country.
My gorgeous best friend Suzie had my amazing farewell bangers cake made - the right boob was lemon cake and the left chocolate fudge :)
So, where to begin....... well the I did my best to make all the food look boobie-ish. There were mini pizza's with a pepperoni & olive nipple, crostini's topped with pate / chutney and goats cheese / olives, mushrooms sweeties which look very nipple like when upside down, round cheese chunks & silverskin pickled onions, gingerbread boobies with icing bra's and nipples.....my guests brought bits along too. My lovely friend Danni must have spent hours making her chocolate boobs & nipple lollies and sweets.
The play list was perfect girl power / high kick stuff as well as some classic 80's cheese thrown in.
The dress code was cleavage and boy was there a lot of it going round!
The bar was open and my gorgeous barman made sure the booze was flowing all night.
I had prepared a little speech to bid my pups farewell which got a few of my guests in tears. It's funny, because BRCA1 has been a part of my life for so long now I think you forget sometimes that the decisions made are quite a big deal and for others looking in can seem very scary or overwhelming, so when I am told I am brave or inspirational it seems odd to me. I am just doing what needs to be done. At the end of the speech it might have been customary to cut the cake, to me it only seemed fitting to bite the nipples off.
So after the boo hoo's started it was time to lighten the mood with a spot of karaoke - namely '99 Words for Boobs' which got everyone singing. After that I handed around a basket of charms and asked every guest to pick one to place on a bracelet with words of support for me to take into the hospital with me. It was around about this point that I got a little emotional. I was completely touch and moved by some of the beautiful words whispered in my ears by my loved ones.
Throw in a game sisters v's sisters game of beer pong and dancing til dawn at the local club, I think it is fair to say the girlies got a damn good send off!!!
I was 9 years old when they first appeared. I had been secretly reading my older sisters copy of ‘Forever’ By Judy Blume and thought I was being punished for reading about sex. Now I had boobs, everyone would know!!!
Once reassured by my mum this was not the case and that I was just growing my ‘little buds’ (as she called them) I began to feel quite proud of being the only girl in my year with something under her vest. I used to stand behind the bike sheds at lunch with my best friends and let them have a feel so they would know what to look for.
At the age of 11 with secondary school dawning, I began to not like my boobs so much. I was worried having a chest would make me stand out and make me a target for bullies. So I used to steal mum’s celotape and try to tape them down so they would be less apparent. I even refused to wear a bra as I was certain that would label me a slut.
By the age of 14 I was more comfortable with having boobs....especially as I had my very first boyfriend, Andrew Graham. Already 16, he was quite the hunk around school and I started to worry for the first time ever would my boobs be big enough? So for the first and final time I began stuffing my bra. Which obviously had the desired affect when on our date he zoomed in for a little over the sweater action....only to come back with a handful of white fluff that had fallen out of my top.
Around 16 I started blossoming in more area’s than just the chest, and being the larger of my friends decided to use my boobs to detract from my ever growing form. Anything that pushed up and poked out my boobs worked for me. I even mastered the art of wedging a bottle of hooch between my heaving bosom and bending back to down the bottle - no hands needed. That party trick earned me a fair few drinks over the years.
At 22 I landed a job as a barmaid at The Grinning Rat pub, and was blessed with the nickname Melons by my boss. The uniform of a low cut v-neck tshirt worked wonders when it came to getting drinks brought for me and bending over seductively while pouring a pint landed me countless dates.
At 28 my boobs fulfilled their most important job and fed my baby. And were flippin’ cracking I might add - from a DD to a GG almost over night they were a sight to behold. But alas i found breastfeeding hard and it was at this time that strangely my boobs were going to bag me the best pull of my life. My gorgeous, amazing Suzie Boobs. We bonded over a shared depression and despair over our painful boobs and cracked nipples and have stayed by each others side ever since.
And then at 30years old my boobs and I discovered we might have the BRCA1 gene and alas it would feel our perfect friendship would be forever tainted.
Over the last 2.5years the girls have been prodded, poked, photographed, measured, scrutinized, scanned and squished.
They have been out and in strangers hands enough time to rival my uni years (and for those of you who knew me back then, that is saying something!)
So from little buds to GG, and pretty much every size in between.
From beer bottle holders to milk cups for my baby.
From big and pert to small and droopy...
The time has come to say goodbye.
So please all raise a glass and lets toast To The Pups!